


Fifty Sovereigns

by JohnCousland



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Drunken Kissing, F/F, F/M, Kissing, M/M, OC Kiss 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnCousland/pseuds/JohnCousland
Summary: Frey and Zevran hide in plain sight in Skyhold. Until Zevran gets bored - and decides to sell a kiss to no other than the Herald of Andraste herself.





	Fifty Sovereigns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hurrricane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hurrricane/gifts).



> This is a brief ficlet with Hurrricane's Frey Mahariel and my Junia Cadash for OC Kiss 2018.

The Herald’s Rest was bursting with activity and people. A murmur of voices, song, booze and smoke that filled the air with a particular scent the elf liked to breathe. Not quite the incenses and quiet of the Sabrae camp from so long ago – Gods, how long ago? He couldn’t remember. A life almost forgotten, somebody else’s. It faded before the years side by side with Zevran, taking care of their little girl. It was muffled under the sweat, song and booze that made that corner of that inn so cozy for Frey.

“ _Por el amor de nuestro Criador_ , Frey! Do you _have_ to be the Hooded Man Sitting in the Dark Corner?” Zevran handed Frey a pint of ale, and took a long sip of his own, taking care to wipe his thick lips with his tongue afterwards. “I will never get used to Fereldan booze. You would think a dwarf running this _Inquisicion_ would have better ale, but of course that would be too much too hope.”

“An _Andrastian_ dwarf, Zevran. What kind of spirits do you think she would carry?” said Frey, taking his time savouring his pint. It wasn’t half as bad as Zevran was waking it sound. “And regardless of faith or drinks, we are safe here. Nobody other than Leliana knows who we are. And she said this is the safest place for us. For our family. Until the dwarf and her Inquisition take care of Clarel, we stay put.”

Frey waited for Zevran to sit next to him, to join him in being the Hooded Men in the Corner. But the other elf kept standing, his eyes fixed on the main table in the hall: the Herald herself. Frey knew the mischief brewing. It thundered Zevran’s brows, and the former Dalish was tempted to just take his loved one by the hand and walk out of there. But Frey Mahariel loved Zevran. He knew the Antivan was getting stir crazy in Skyhold, so… Maybe it would be for the best to let him roam free for a bit.

Although, maybe it was not a good idea. Zevran had not averted his eyes from the table where Junia Cadash and a few friends were sat, drinking and laughing as loud as everybody else in the Herald’s Rest. In fact, Frey could clearly hear the Herald saying how she was afraid of finding cobwebs in her mouth, so long it had been since she kissed someone. A bearded man on the other side of the table from her seemed to have issues with that. He was worried what others would think hearing the Herald of Andraste say such things. And Frey liked Junia more when she replied, in half a scold, that the Maker’s word was love, and all love should be seen and taken kindly, whether given for free or purchased. In fact, _she_ was the Herald of Andraste, and she knew better than anyone what the Maker wanted. So she should order everybody to kiss everybody, so all could finally understand what the Chantry was about. But alas, the people were not yet ready for the nakedness of the Maker’s truth. The other two women at the table, another dwarf and a tall, blonde elf, bent over in laughter, and raised their glasses at that, much to the bearded man’s dismay.

“You know, if the Chantry had been introduced to me this way, things might have been different, Zev – Zevran?!”

But Zevran was already on his way to Junia’s table.

“Excuse me, everyone. Excuse me, _por favor_.” Frey kept sat in his Dark Corner, knowing, somehow, Zevran would involve him in his plays. “I could not help overhearing the Lady Herald of Andraste say how she misses the tender lipery touch of somebody’s kiss.” Frey was ready to sink in his seat and maybe find what lies beneath Skyhold, while Zevran, full of his typical flamboyance, continued. “As it happens, the Maker may have set me in your path, your Sanctity, because as it happens, I – Horacio Malvidar de la Vega y Carrera, am a renowned salesman. I sell the best kisses in Thedas!”

Despite all his worries, Frey couldn’t help but feel drawn forward. It was Zevran being Zevran, and there was no better moment to love him when Frey could do just that: watch him being Zevran from the perfect distance and angle which allowed the Antivan to be _witnessed_ in all his glory. A glory that could easily be pounded by the bearded man who stood and proved to be at least two full feet taller than Zevran. But the women at the table didn’t seem to take offense.

“A kiss seller, yeah?” Said the blonde elven woman “And you have a box full of ‘em?”

Zevran couldn’t have a readier answer: “Not a box, no, my lady, but lips! The best lips ever created by the hands of Our Heavenly Father. A kiss second only to Andraste’s! And since this was clearly meant to be, Thy Holiness will be able to have it for only… Fifty sovereigns.”

Frey didn’t flinch when the bearded guy rose immediately and clutched Zevran’s neck in a hand. “You will apologize to the Lady Herald and drag your sorry ass out of here”, said the man in a husky, coarse, beautiful voice. Frey was sure that aroused Zevran. What surprised Frey is that the Lady Herald’s eyes were focused instead on _him_ , Frey. She held his gaze for a few instants while Zevran inundated the bearded man in a slurry of words which would keep a fist away from his elven face.

“Let the elf go, Blackwall.” Junia said nonchalantly, with a soft smirk in her thick lips. Frey liked how they looked. She looked up at Zevran who adjusted his throat back in place. “This kiss better be worthy fifty sovereigns, _señor_ _Vega y Carrera_.” She made a pause of effect, with both hands on her hips, slipping a quick glance at Frey before returning to Zevran. “I will have Blackwall behead you if it isn’t.”

Zevran did not even flinch at the threat, although Blackwall smiled at that, and the other two women were clapping and ooing. Zevran simply bowed in thanks, and turned to Frey: “ _Mi amor, queda-te a cá!”_.

Frey widened his eyes and jolted forward, letting some of his drink spill out of his mouth. “Wait, what?!”

“Kiss the lady Herald, and show her how soft these lips of yours feel”. And turning to Junia, Zevran continued: “It is rumored in Orlais that empress Celene had a marriage arrangement with a gentleman, and a mere week before they tied the knots, said gentleman kissed these said lips. Well… The empress is single to this day.”

Upon hearing that, Junia chuckled lively, and after pondering for a few instants, so did Frey. What the hell! He stood from his seat and walked slowly towards the dwarf, not a single word said, only a discreet bow of his head given. “This better be really good. It is not everyday that I am in a mood to kiss men. Right, Sera?” said Junia. Sera and the other dwarf giggled at the provocation; Blackwall didn’t.

Frey and Junia stood there, looking at each other for a long time. Frey was willing to play Zevran’s game, but something about Junia’s gaze held him. Her eyes were full of an odd longing. He felt as if she was looking at details on his eyes, but not at them. Even her breathing felt elongated. But when that lasted too long, Sera shouted “kiss already”, and Zevran simply brought their heads to together, making Frey and Junia put a lot of laughter in between their lips as they kissed.

It didn’t last more than a few mere instants, but as they broke apart, Junia slapped her thigh and shouted at all around her: “Holly Maker, this is the best kiss I’ve ever had! Someone pay Horacio his fifty Anoras!”

The crowd around started to cheer and laugh, and soon kissing games started going all around. Sera did not let that opportunity go, and in an instant, she was kissing the other dwarf, who responded sheepishly. Frey heard Junia congratulate her, calling her Lace. As in a name, not a bow. And he could feel Zevran’s breath on his neck, the Antivan all too excited with all the merry going all around them. Blackwall had left. And maybe it was time for them to leave too.

***

Blackwall was leaving the Herald’s Rest in broad steps, the cold smoking his breath as he walked away, the snow of the trodden path no longer crushing under his boots. He stopped but didn’t turn when, already away from the noisy door, he heard Junia’s voice calling the name.

“Yes, my lady?”

“I did not mean to upset you. I am sorry. It is the liquor, I guess.”

He had not yet turned to the dwarf who slowly approached him from behind. He took a deep breath, and looked at her. “And I apologize for letting it get to my head, your worship. I shouldn’t bother.”

“No, no”, said Junia, hugging her own arms and stopping next to Blackwall, looking up at spot in the sky were some stars shone amid clouds. “I got carried away.” They stood in silence for a few moments, their breaths joining the clouds in trying to hide the sky. “I met a Grey Warden once. Over time, he developed the same eyes as that elf. A constant red outline. The skin that looks cracked close to the lips. Pupils that are not perfectly black.”

She continued after a pause: “You still don’t have those eyes, Blackwall.”

Blackwall swallowed and said nothing. He cupped his hands behind his back, and stood silent. Junia took a deep breathed and walked away.


End file.
